


contrasts.

by nougats



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nougats/pseuds/nougats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin and Mugen are polar opposites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	contrasts.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a character study for Jin and Mugen. (:

They were nothing like each other.

 _Night and day_ , the two men came from different worlds, one holding his head up high upon the likes of kings and queens, the other trudging through dirt paths as a stranger to the world. One had a future of promise, and when exiled, had _everything to lose_.

The other abandoned home for the hopes of something better with _everything to gain_.

It was Jin who wore his katana like a ruler would his crown.

It was Mugen who drew his sword like a survivor would his lifeline.

—

 _Black and white_ , their minds couldn’t function any more differently. They crashed together like a conflict bred for war, mentality and ideas clashing the way their blades had. They continuously came and parted, speaking little yet fluent in the language of combat. Parry. Dodge. Strike. Blow. Rinse and repeat this never-ending waltz, a dangerous dance made just for two.

Jin was the calm before the storm.

Mugen brought cracking thunder and relentless rain.

—

 _Hot and cold_ , their language and their lives served as mere antonyms. The noble samurai walked with an air of elegance, regality resting on his shoulders like the reds of royalty. He spoke little, so quiet and reserved. He appeared almost disjointed from the rest of reality, a figure so stately he sat on a throne too high up for anyone to reach. Too refined. Too _perfect_. Too much. And at the feet of nobility rested a vagrant whose name was synonymous with _misfortune_ and _bad luck_. As everyone bowed and offered their loyalty, he spat in the face of such nobility and showed only defiance and independence. He didn’t care. People wonder if he’d any in the world. His strides bore the image of a free spirit, one unshackled to expectations and rules. This was his world, and he would own it with every breath in his lungs. Having fought for his survival - for his very right to exist - he carried with him the spirit of a beast; it wasn’t extinguishable, and he was infinite.

Jin was the persistent winter that bit and froze.

Mugen was the raging fever that burned and scorched.

—

 _Like life and death_ , they seemed to embody different phases of life. One was the past - established and controlled - the other, the future - wild, unpredictable. Born into the life of the warrior, the exiled ronin was raised in traditions now forgotten. He was groomed to embody the spirit of a dying class, raised to carry a name only to be found in the pages of history. His time had come before he’d ever been born, _the way of the samurai_ now a legend only spoken when seeking the comforts of nostalgia. And as his age vanished, it was steadily replaced by his presence.The ex-pirate refused to reminisce, to remember the hell in which he’d escaped from within just in inch of his life. There was no turning back. He knew only one direction: forward.

Jin was tradition, something safe and known.

Mugen was the possibilities, dangerous and thrilling.

—

And yet, despite being so different, their roads had twined together.

Blades drawn and blood boiling, they promised to play as the other’s own executioner.

And like _the sun and the moon_ , they were caught in an endless chase.


End file.
